“Well, you know about his...err... problem,” he said flapping his hand like a fan in front of his nose.”Went to see the doc yesterday ‘e did, and the doc says he needs an enemy. How ‘aving enemies can 'elp I can't imagine.

“Arf” I chuckled. “He needs an emema, not an enemy! Enema!”

“What’s the 'eck is one of them when it's at ‘ome?” he asked.

“Time to go home” I said, I giving Arthur peck on his cheek and a risky slap to Fartin’ Fred’s bum as I passed which set off one his signature ass-blasters. I bet all that got the local gossip’s chins waggin’!

My guess is those chaps and the pubs too have now long gone, vanished along with Mild and Bitter set, ladies with their Port and lemon and the bar billiards table tucked in the corner where a coin on the rim meant someone had booked the table for the next game.